haze
by Wanna Be Formal
Summary: Steven hasn't been quite the same since he was brought back to life by Celebi, but Wallace does his damnest to make sure that the former Champion is not alone. Originshipping.


In the saturated blue-gray light of the early winter morning, Steven Stone startled awake, gasping for breath and clutching desperately at the cotton sheets surrounding him. His heart pounded and his vision blurred, a trembling hand lifting to rub uselessly at the crust inlaid in his eyelashes and the thin sheen of sweat that covered his skin.

He'd been waking like this for years, much to the ire of his pride.

It had started only days after his sudden reappearance in the world, alongside the realization that, for once in his life, there was no longer a higher rung on the latter of success for which he could reach. He'd left the world a hero, and come back without his title, without his drive, and without any understanding of why _he_ of all people deserved a second chance. In his nightmares, there was no tangible form for the dread and anxiety that clawed at him in the darkness, nothing but the detached sensation of the heated frenzy of the world scraping violently across his steel armor of self confidence and self worth. It melted his core from without and left him as but a static, molten puddle within his dented shell.

His Pokemon worried for him, as did his loved ones, but Steven refused to let on just how shaken he truly was. It was _nonsensical_, after all, to be anything but _grateful_ for the opportunity that had been presented to him. His exhaustive drive to show all who cared that he was perfectly capable of moving forward proved only to worry them further, however, as he was steadily working himself towards the death that he had only just escaped.

The nightmares kept up with surprising vigor for months, plaguing what few hours of sleep he ever found amongst his tireless efforts both underground and within an office. He always woke up alone, staring at a whitewashed plaster ceiling and digging his fingers into the bed beneath him, like somehow he could strangle it into giving him answers to questions he didn't even know the words to.

"Steven."

But then, one day, the very man that had been at arm's length since the day they first met came bursting back into his life, tearing through the cardboard cutout facades that he had erected around himself. There was only so much time that Wallace was prepared to allow his best friend to pity himself for, after all— only so much time that he would spend as unwittingly alone as Steven forced himself to be.

To Steven's right, the sharp sounds of movement clattered noisily against his ears, the mattress shifting beside and below him mere moments later. Fingers, soft and warm, slowly intertwined with his, pulling them away from his face and pressing his hand gently into the bed. With the speed of sleep-addled concern, Wallace lifted himself up and atop of his bed partner, straddling the other's middle and lifting his free hand to gently run through the strands of Steven's hair.

Slowly, Steven let out the breath that he had been holding, closing his eyes and allowing his mind, distressed like a child's in fear, to be calmed by the gentle scratching of his scalp and soft tugs on his hair.

"You're such a baby." Wallace spoke softly from above, and Steven opened his eyes to see the lines of a quirked brow illuminated by the light of the moon. The hand disappeared from his hair, instead coming down to bump playfully against Steven's chin. "Just how long do you plan to wake me in the middle of the night with your silly little dreams?"

After a literal lifetime of sharp-tongued insults, they were nothing but chatter to Steven, and he ignored them. Instead, he used his free hand to grasp firmly at the nape of Wallace's neck and pull down, planting a sleepy, open-mouthed kiss on the lips that waited for him in a thinly pressed line of concern.

"My apologies. They're beyond my control, you know. That's kind of how dreams work," Steven muttered, smiling ever slightly. It was not necessary for Wallace to comfort him like this, he knew. It would not surprise Steven if the other man became legitimately cross after so many nights of worries and anxieties that he could not comprehend, but instead, Steven had this. The heart that had pulsed frantically in fear mere moments before then slowed with the warmth of the gesture.

Wallace 'hmph'd lightly, pulling his fingers away from Steven's and using both arms to prop himself up. As he did so, Steven allowed his arm to fall away, landing above his head and leaving him completely open to the one above him. Steven could hardly see the turquoise-haired man's face, but he did not need sight to know that it was pulled into a look of light condescension.

"Learn to become a lucid dreamer. It is not very hard. Then again," his head tilted, "maybe it's beyond that feeble mind of yours."

"But what if I _am_ a lucid dreamer, and I simply did not know?" Steven quipped, a stray hand wandering to brush against Wallace's thigh. "Maybe this is a dream right now."

Wallace sighed, surely rolling his eyes. "You're in idiot. If this were a dream, you would have me doing much more than whispering _insults_ to you in the dark."

Steven shrugged, his smile growing. He would not be going back to sleep any time soon, and he had no intention of staying awake alone. "I know you very well, though. Insulting me is a given. If you _really_ think I'm wrong, perhaps you should prove it to me."

"Fine." In a swift motion, Wallace rolled to the side, easily curling up in the blankets and turning his back to Steven, who felt bereft by the sudden disappearance of the other man above him. Well, he certainly hadn't been expecting _that_. Then again, Steven had never expected to win any of their games.

He laughed, following after Wallace and slinging an arm across him, pulling them flush together. "Alright, alright. I am not a lucid dreamer." He nuzzled lightly into the short hair at Wallace's neck, scrunching up his nose in an attempt to tickle the other man and force him to respond. If Wallace was adept at always coming out on top, then Steven was adept at making sure that he could not be forgotten. It had been that way since childhood.

Wallace's shoulders immediately lifted in an attempt to shield his neck, back arching away from Steven's touch. He let out a small sound of surprise, twisting to face Steven with a look of disapproval that the steel trainer could _feel,_ slender fingers reaching out to push petulantly at Steven's face. Steven could only laugh again, his eyes crinkling in amusement.

"I'm not going to appease a _brat_, Steven. Go back to your nightmare if you must."

Smiling, Steven caught Wallace's wrists and pushed them away, moving forward to capture the other's lips in a second kiss. The Champion at first refused to respond, steadfast in his resolve to frustrate Steven, but the plan could only backfire as he felt light nips and tugs at his lower lip, fingers drifting to massage the dip of his hipbone. He sprung into action, then, pushing forward and wrapping his arms firmly Steven's clothed torso to meet at the small of his back. Steven responded in kind, tangling the fingers of one hand in the other's short hair while pulling him close with the other. And they kissed— slowly, forcefully, but gaining momentum, any thought of going back to sleep before morning far from either of their minds.

Fingering the light material of Steven's sleeping shirt for a moment, Wallace pushed his hand under the fabric, pressing firmly down on Steven's back in the whisper of a massaging touch before spidering his fingers up, spreading them wide at the other's shoulder blades. Then, without warning, he curled his hand and scraped down Steven's back, causing the man to gasp roughly into the kiss and buck forward, grinding into Wallace.

Stricken by desire, Wallace pushed back, rolling Steven over and returning them to their previous mounted position. With firm hands, Steven grasped onto the thighs straddling him, holding the other man in place as he rolled his hips upwards, grinding his quickly hardening erection into the matching one above. Wallace gasped and gripped Steven's arms tightly, pinching them in the force of his hold.

It was a chain reaction of give and take, push and pull, and the familiarity of it, despite its spontaneity, had the both of them grinning giddily into the darkness.

Wallace leaned forward, planting open-mouthed kisses onto Steven's neck and trailing his fingers down the clothed chest. After a moment, however, he huffed, pulling away and eliciting a distressed moan from below.

"Why did you wear a shirt to bed?" He muttered. "This is so inconvenient."

Steven reached up, attempting to pull Wallace back down to him, but a rough yank on his shirt made him pause, and instead he merely laid his hands on Wallace's back. "It's_winter_. Normal people dress for warmth— not for sex."

Wallace was busy pulling the article up, and, with an unseen roll of his eyes, Steven shifted to allow it to be removed.

"I sorely hope you're not trying to imply that you're normal. Off with your pants and undies, then, while we're at it." The second half was spoken sweetly, but with a mocking air that made Steven snort. Nonetheless, it was a reasonable request, and so the two took a moment to rid themselves of their remaining clothing. Quickly, they were back where they started, and Wallace resumed his assault on the skin of Steven's neck, suckling and biting in a way he knew got Steven hard. Steven, meanwhile, took the chance to let his hands wander, exploring the lithe body of the water type trainer. He squeezed and caressed, tugging Wallace into him and holding him steady in time with their rolling hips.

As their breathing grew unsteady and the air around them heated, Steven reached between them with one hand and grabbed hold of their erections, squeezing them together and making the friction between them ten times more satisfying. Wallace, taken by surprise, bucked sharply into Steven's hand, muffling a shout by biting down hard on Steven's shoulder. Steven could only moan, wrapping his free arm tightly around the other.

Their lips crashed together, tongues writing wordless poetry of comfort and affection between them, and they became but a twitching mechanism, rubbing and bucking and grinding at every junction of touch. They panted and moaned, encouraged by the gasps elicited by each of their movements.

As they came passionately onto each other's bodies, they collapsed, entangled, across the bed, kissing tenderly in the aftermath.

"Does this mean I'm forgiven for waking you?" Steven whispered into Wallace's lips, a small smile curving as he teased.

Wallace hummed, turning his head slightly to place a peck on the tip of Steven's nose. "Of course not. Now you are obligated to go make me breakfast. Chop chop, darling." Despite the frankness of his words, Wallace tightened his hold around Steven, signifying that he had no intention of letting the other man go. As the sun rose, shining its light on the region of Hoenn, the former and current Champion lay pressed together in the warmed sheets on their bed, whispering and snickering inanely across each other's skin.

One day, Wallace silently vowed, he would erase the poisonous worries from Steven's mind once and for all. Maybe then he'd get a full night's sleep.


End file.
